Blood of the Wolf
by pistonsfan75
Summary: I rewrote 'Stirrings in the Winterfell Crypt'. When Brandon the Builder built Winterfell, he carved magic spells into the walls of the crypt, to protect his family and all Starks of future generations. Any person who spilled Stark blood within the Walls of Winterfell would have their blood spilled within the walls of the seat of the Kingdom of the North.


When Brandon the Builder built Winterfell, he carved magic spells into the walls of the crypt, to protect his family and all Starks of future generations. Any person who spilled Stark blood within the Walls of Winterfell would have their blood spilled within the walls of the seat of the Northern kingdom.

Heed this now, be wary.

On this sacred ground, be leery.

Upon these cinder walls,

As deepest winters fall.

Lies Magic true and deep.

A spell all time shall keep.

Stand warned, enemy of the Wolf.

Listen and take hold.

For he who spills blood of a Stark

within these walls, your days grow dark.

Death shall be your gain,

Deep shall be your pain.

Winter is coming.

Your reprieve… is nothing.

Night had fallen over Winterfell. Candles burned in the Great Hall. A pack of direwolves could be heard in the distance.

The sounds of a girl's screams and cries could be heard, all through the castle. No one stirred to help her, as her husband beat and raped her and beat her again. This happened every night. She was the red wolf, Sansa Stark of Winterfell, but she was alone. Totally alone in her fight for survival.

Every night, she tried not to cry, but he always beat and tortured her until she couldn't help but scream as her tears fell. But tonight, her screams were louder, more piercing, as Ramsey sliced away pieces of her flesh for trying to escape. She'd tried to run away with Theon, jumping over the Winterfell walls. The Bolton's hounds caught up with them, and Podrick and Brienne didn't get there in time. Theon was dead.

Down in the crypts, her screams echoed through the dark, empty hallways. She had lit the candles before her wedding, but they had long ago burned out because she was confined to her room.

The dank air stirred in the crypts. The candles were suddenly all lit at once. The sword held by Ned Stark's statue rattled and the feather in Lyanna Stark's statue's hand fell.

"Father, help me... Mother! Warrior!" A gush of air blew through the crypt.

Upstairs, in a dark, locked bedroom, Sansa Stark fought for her life, certain Ramsey was going to kill her. The beatings just wouldn't stop.

Suddenly, all the candles in her room lit at once. No one had touched them. The shutters over the windows flew open, despite being locked. The covers were yanked from the bed and a shoe hit Ramsey's head.

He jumped away from Sansa, ready to confront the threat, but no one was there. He started to turn on Sansa again, but was yanked back onto the floor. He grabbed his knife, but there was no one to fight. Suddenly, his knife was yanked from his hand and thrown into a wooden beam in the ceiling, out of his reach.

As he walked up to her again, he was again pulled backwards onto the floor. This time, he was held there for several minutes.

Sansa swore she saw her brother Robb for a split second but shook it off. Her older brother was dead. She thought she saw long brown hair and heard a woman laughing as her husband struggled.

When Ramsey was finally able to get up, he quickly left her room, locking the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, Sansa's fire roared, her shutters closed tight and her room warmed. One candle remained lit. Unbeknownst to Sansa, a vengeful spirit now stood guard outside her door. The ancient magic had been awakened by her screams and her blood.

Alone in his own room, Ramsey couldn't get the shutters to stay closed and the air was freezing cold. He tried unsuccessfully to build a fire. It kept going out. He tried to sleep, but something or someone kept shoving and poking him.

In the master suite, his father and stepmother were experiencing the same thing. The shutters wouldn't stay shut, the fire went out and the candles were all suddenly lit.

Lady Walda had been awake all night, weeping as she helplessly listened to Sansa's screams. She knew she couldn't help her. Roos woke up shivering, but was unable to get a fire going, either. They both tried to blow all the candles out, but they would just relight again. When they laid back down, resigned to sleeping with candlelight, they were poked and shoved and slapped by someone unseen. They thought they heard a woman's laugh, and saw long brown hair.

Down in the crypts, the candles all blew out and the air seemed to settle.

The next night, as soon as Ramsey neared Sansa's room, a blast of very cold air hit his face. Before he could even reach the door, he was knocked back and pinned to the floor by an unseen force. When he was finally able to stand, he was knocked down again. Finally, he ran out of the hall without so much as laying a finger on Sansa.

No screams were heard in the castle that night. Or the next. Any time Ramsey approached Sansa, he was met by unseen hostile forces protecting her.

The third morning, the legitimized bastard was found lying on the ground outside the Winterfell walls, having fallen to his death. No one knew if he'd jumped or been pushed, as nobody saw it happen.

As soon as she heard, Sansa hurried down to the crypts. She quickly lit every candle and stood in front of her father's and brother's statues.

"Thank you, Father. Thank you, Robb." The candles flickered.

She replaced the feather on Lyanna's statue. She'd seen the long brown hair and heard the laugh. "Thank you, Aunt Lyanna. I wish I'd had the opportunity to meet you." The candle flickered and Sansa heard the laughter again.

The next morning, Roos Bolton was found dead, apparently having died in his sleep.

Lady Walda returned to the The Twins. Jon found his way back, then Bran, then Arya.

When Bran returned to Winterfell, he talked to Sansa about what happened with the Boltons. He told her how Ramsay actually died.

Ramsey had been headed to Sansa's room to torment her again. All the torches were out in the hallway and he was barely able to see where he was going. He was drunk and wary after unseen forces had pushed him away from Sansa the past two nights.

When he reached Sansa's room, he was confronted by her Aunt Lyanna's ghost. She was standing guard outside her niece's door, hellbent on blood. He had spilled Stark blood, now it was time for his blood to spill. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight, her eyes a deep onyx, blackened with fury.

The Knight of the Laughing Tree was not laughing tonight.

Ramsey stumbled back in terror at the sight of the phantasm before him.

Lyanna chased him through the dark halls to the battlements. In his disorientation and terror he jumped over the side and was found frozen to death the next morning.

Bran told his siblings that long ago when their Stark ancestors built Winterfell, a sacred magic spell was etched into the walls of the crypt. It was a promise, or a curse, depending on what side of it you stood on. It was a promise, if you were a Stark, but it was a threat if you were an enemy to the blood of the wolf.

I deleted Stirrings in the Winterfell Crypt and rewrote it.


End file.
